


ach samé'ach

by capricornia



Category: K-pop, SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Jewish, Alternate Universe - Yeshivish, Fluff, M/M, Sukkot, glossary in the notes, kidfic but not really, pretending covid doesn't exist, something something sukkah as a metaphor for chuppah as a metaphor for house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:15:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26982733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capricornia/pseuds/capricornia
Summary: Vernon is deliberating, which is, like, kind of a weird feeling. It's weird because he's usually pretty confident in himself. It's weird because it's Minghao he's deliberating about. And it's weird because he's making it weird."You're making it weird," Seungkwan tells him from the other side of the bus pole. They're standing back to back and trying not to get coughed on by anybody or jostled into any old ladies with shopping bags.Or, as is the case on this particular Wednesday afternoon, poked by anybody's lulav.--Vernon and Seungkwan go help some kids decorate their Sukkah. Fortunately for Vernon, Minghao agrees to come help. Unfortunately for Vernon, Minghao is his crush.
Relationships: Chwe Hansol | Vernon/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 11
Kudos: 28





	ach samé'ach

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AStarryKnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AStarryKnight/gifts).



> Very happy birthday to my friend Debs!! It is not Sukkot anymore, but I hope you are _ach samé'ach_ anyway. 
> 
> The title of this fic comes from the phrase "v’ha-yeeta ach samé'ach," "and you shall have nothing but joy," from _Devarim_ (Deuteronomy) 16:15. 
> 
> PRONUNCIATION NOTE: All the "ch" sounds in this work should be pronounced gutturally, similarly to the Scottish "loch," for example. 
> 
> GLOSSARY OF TERMS can be found in the endnotes. If you aren't sure of a word, it's probably there. If it isn't, let me know!
> 
> Special thanks to Em and April. <3
> 
> Thank you for reading!

Vernon is deliberating, which is, like, kind of a weird feeling. It's weird because he's usually pretty confident in himself. It's weird because it's Minghao he's deliberating about. And it's weird because he's making it weird.

"You're making it weird," Seungkwan tells him from the other side of the bus pole. They're standing back to back and trying not to get coughed on by anybody or jostled into any old ladies with shopping bags.

Or, as is the case on this particular Wednesday afternoon, poked by anybody's lulav.

"I'm not making it weird," Vernon says. "It's already weird. It's a weird thing to ask, right?"

He knows Seungkwan is rolling his eyes even without looking. "He loves that kind of stuff," Seungkwan says. "He loves art. And he likes kids. And he likes you. What's there to be weird about?"

Vernon fiddles with the strings of his tzitzis. "You know," he says quietly.

Something slaps him in the leg. He looks down. Seungkwan is messing with his tzitzis, too. 

"Okay," Seungkwan says, "I understand why you're apprehensive about it. But it's literally just—you know Minghao. He knows you."

"That's the problem," Vernon whispers, trying not to expose his business to everybody on the bus. "He knows me. He's going to—he's going to be able to tell. That I—you know."

Seungkwan hums as the bus lurches to a stop, then coos, and Vernon turns just in time to see someone making their way to the doors with a baby in their arms. He raises his eyebrows at the baby. The baby raises their eyebrows at him. Best feeling in the world, communicating with babies.

"Just text him," Seungkwan says as the bus gets going again. "Stop overthinking. Just do it. Unless you want me to text Seokmin to tell Minghao himself."

Vernon rolls his eyes, but Seungkwan knows that's the motivation he needs. It's embarrassing enough having this stupid crush—a fascination, an admiration, that has developed right under his nose into a crush—on his older friend, but it's even more embarrassing to have his even older friend try to be his wingman, or something.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket to open a new message to Minghao one-handed. The bus, of course, decides that this would be a perfect time to stop suddenly, and he's thrown forward into the suddenly empty space recently vacated by a mother with three young children. 

"You're a mess," Seungkwan informs him.

Vernon just grins at him. "I know," he says, and hovers his thumb over the keyboard on his phone.

 _Hey_ , he types, then immediately backspaces.

 _So I'm doing this chessed project_ — no, that sounds too much like it's just for this project and not because he genuinely wants to do this. Which, like, he does. 

_Hi, Minghao, I know you like doing art_ —

 _Hi, Minghao, you like working with kids, right? And you volunteer at that one school, right? Anyway I_ —

He chews on his lip. Three more people get on the bus. One of them looks about ten years old and is carrying an etrog box as big as his head.

 _Hey_ , he writes with his thumb as the bus trundles to life again, _want to help me help kids make sukkah decorations at the school?_

Minghao reads it immediately. Vernon's heart leaps into his throat as he waits for Minghao to finish typing. 

_Of course_ , Minghao sends him. 

_I'm done with classes today. Let me know when._

••

  
  


The school has already set up the sukkah, which is great, because Vernon isn’t particularly handy. Like, he’s muscular, kind of, and he can lift things and put them where people tell him to, but he and Seungkwan tried building a shelf thing from IKEA once and it had turned out very badly, and then it had still turned out badly even after they read the instructions, so he’s not really so good at actually putting anything together.

But this he can do.

“Give Vernon and Seungkwan some space,” Morah Jiyoon says. The crowd of five- and six-year-olds disperses somewhat. Vernon grins. His sister used to go to this school. Morah Jiyoon wasn’t there back then, but the smells in the classroom and the rugs on the floor are the same. 

“I heard there’s a very special holiday coming soon,” Seungkwan says as he sits down on the rug. Vernon takes a moment to be grateful that Seungkwan reminded him to bring their slippers. The kids’ slippers make little scuffling noises as they all sit in a semi-circle on the rug in front of Seungkwan. Vernon always feels kind of awkward during this part, no matter where he is or what kind of program he’s doing. It’s fine when it’s just him, but with another person his age there it’s both relieving and stressful at the same time. He just doesn’t know where to put his hands, or how to arrange his face. Should he stand or sit? He looks nervously at Morah Jiyoon for guidance. She crouches down behind one of the kids, so Vernon sits down three kids away.

One of the kids in front of Vernon raises his hand. Seungkwan points to him.

“It’s Sukkot,” the kid says with a lisp.

Seungkwan beams. 

Aside from him feeling awkward, this part is easy, because all Vernon has to do is watch Seungkwan. He has about ten minutes of rest before they all have to go outside and he’ll have to be on his feet for--

Oh, shit.

He sidles closer to Morah Jiyoon as surreptitiously as he can, and catches the stares of no fewer than four children for his efforts.

“Um,” he says as softly as he can. “I think my classmate Xu Minghao has come here before,” he mumbles when Morah Jiyoon turns to look at him. She scoots further away from the semi-circle.

“The children love him,” she murmurs quietly so as not to disturb Seungkwan exclaiming over whatever storybook he brought with him. 

“Is it alright if he comes over to help with the sukkah decorations?” he asks her. For some reason it’s a lot less nerve-wracking than it was asking Minghao. He’s not sure if he wants to examine that any further than he already has.

“Oh, yes, that would be wonderful,” she says. “He’s already cleared to work here.”

So it’s Vernon who scoots closer to the door while Seungkwan begins reading the book he brought to the kids, and it’s Vernon who hears Minghao’s voice in the hallway, which means it’s Vernon who is the first person Minghao sees when he gets to the door. Which means when he opens the door and steps out into the hallway, Minghao is met with a beaming face that Vernon really can’t control. 

“Hi,” Vernon says, voice halfway between cheeky and shy. 

Minghao giggles, because of course he does. “Hi,” he parrots back quietly. “I brought supplies.” He opens his backpack. Vernon peers in and sees a machzor, a 120-pack of markers, two packs of stickers, glitter glue and several sharpies. And Minghao’s scarf, which he pulls out halfway.

“You’re going to get glitter glue on this,” he says with a slight frown. 

When he looks up, Minghao is looking down at him. It’s a different angle than he’s used to. He’s suddenly aware of how close they’re standing, here in the elementary school hallway, with only Minghao’s backpack between them. And Minghao’s hands on his backpack, and Vernon’s hands inside the backpack on Minghao’s scarf.

“I know how to use glitter glue,” Minghao says, and Vernon chooses to hear it as _I know what I’m doing with you here_.

“Okay,” he says, and takes the scarf all the way out. He lets it hang from his pinched fingers like a flag before starting to fold it nicely. It’s something he always does. Have flat square, will fold. He doubles it up twice before straightening up to look Minghao in the eye. “But I tend to make a mess,” he says, hoping his tone is just the right amount of teasing to let him off the hook if anyone asks. 

Minghao just looks at him for an extended moment, then quirks his lips up in a smile. “So we need to get you a smock just like the kids,” he says. “Good thing I know you.” He holds the backpack out to Vernon, who takes it. He shouldn’t be surprised when Minghao immediately starts rummaging through it, but he is. Minghao takes out several energy bars, two fidget spinners, a pair of headphones that Vernon knows have only one working ear, another scarf and, inexplicably, two rugelach wrapped in Saran wrap that Vernon recognizes as being from the bakery down the street from the yeshiva, before he makes a small “aha!” noise and pulls out a wadded-up piece of cloth.

“Smock!” he announces, and unrolls the shirt. Vernon’s mouth goes dry. It’s big on Minghao, which means it’ll fit him nicely. It’s got paint on it, colors he recognizes from Minghao’s various projects. It’s so very _Minghao_.

“Uh,” he says, “great,” and starts putting the things back in Minghao’s backpack. 

“Let me do that,” Minghao says. “You put this on. Is Kwannie reading to them?”

“Yeah.”

“Your voice is all muffled,” Minghao laughs. Vernon pulls the shirt over his face and raises an eyebrow. Minghao is smiling, but there’s some tilt to his head Vernon isn’t used to. He pauses like that, with the shirt pulled over his normal clothes, still wrinkled because he hasn’t smoothed it down his frame yet. “Come here,” Minghao says, and reaches out. Vernon goes. Minghao fixes his hair sharply, deliberately, with little flicks of his wrist. Vernon fights back a small shudder. He’s not used to such tender care; he’s casual and affectionate with his friends but he usually holds himself apart in some way. 

Minghao, though, has always been easy, since the first time Vernon met him at Simchat Torah three years ago and he breakdanced around Mingyu, who had been holding the Torah scroll. Vernon had thought he was so cool, so untouchable. And then Minghao had come up next to him at the little snacks table under the awning in the yeshiva courtyard, looked Vernon up and down, and said, with a shy smile, “Hi, I’m Minghao! I heard a bit of your leining earlier. You have a very clear voice. It’s easy to—it’s easy to distinguish your tones.”

And, like, Vernon is not immune to compliments. Especially, as he has learned, compliments from Minghao. Minghao praises easily, like he’s stating facts, and Vernon soaks up his attention like a sponge. 

And his attention comes easily, too, in other forms. Like him texting Vernon with pictures of various decorative plates and cups he’d found. Like him bringing over the Hanukkah-themed sand-art meant for six-year-olds last year for Vernon and Junhui to mess around with. (Vernon’s had turned out messy but pretty okay. Minghao’s had been beautiful. Vernon has it pinned up on his cork board.) Like him detangling Vernon’s tzitzis strings that one time when Junhui had put his tallis kattan through the wash on the wrong cycle. Like him fixing Vernon’s hair now.

“Thanks,” Vernon says, a little strangled.

“Your shampoo smells nice,” Minghao responds, and then seems to catch himself. He pulls away, smooths the shirt down over Vernon’s shoulders, lets go.

“It’s kiwi,” Vernon says automatically. “Thanks.”

“Oh,” says Minghao, now pulling out his pack of markers without moving his eyes away from Vernon’s general person. “I like kiwi. We should get some sometime. I haven’t had one in ages, actually. It should have been our new fruit on Rosh Hashana instead of that stupid watermelon Junhui got.”

“We should get them for Sukkot,” Vernon says, and what he means is, _I’d like to kiss kiwi juice off your lips_.

“Okay,” says Minghao, and then he takes out the glitter glue and his machzor and opens the classroom door.

••

Twenty minutes in, and it’s going beautifully. Four of the kids are struggling through finger-knitting yarn snakes to hang up, one group of three has already broken two crayons and there’s glitter glue on the table. 

“Do you have a sukkah at your house?” one of the little girls asks Vernon as he crouches down next to the tiny table to help her glue some paper cutouts onto some other paper cutouts. (He has no idea what she’s making, but it’s adorable.) He looks into her big eyes and wonders how to tell her he does, sort of, but also his house is hundreds of miles away, and he hasn’t seen any of his childhood decorations in years. He doesn’t even know if his mom still gets them out anymore. 

“We have a sukkah that we share,” Minghao says, swooping in like some kind of magical bird to save the day. Once again, Vernon is sitting low, and Minghao is hovering above him. The schach is angled just so, and the sun is high behind Minghao. His shadow fizzles over Vernon as he blocks out the light like a ziz. 

And then he crouches, too, and smiles at Vernon, and Vernon’s breath catches in his throat as Minghao inspects the little girl’s creation. 

“That’s going to make our sukkah so beautiful,” he tells her. She beams at him. Her face is probably half the size of his. Minghao’s voice is calm, and he slowly and deliberately moves his large hand to point out some paper that’s about to fall and make a mess on the girl’s other side. She lights up as she picks up the paper pieces one by one. Something inside Vernon feels like it’s being cracked open like an egg at the sight. As if it’s getting bonked against the side of a glass cup reserved for such a purpose. So he knows what the thing is, and he doesn’t bother examining it further. He’ll find blood for sure; he’ll find his entire heart if he looks, running to Minghao’s like a poached egg yolk. 

Okay, so it’s not his best metaphor. He’s still working on his poetry. 

“I’ll tell you something really special,” Minghao is saying as he fixes the girl’s sleeve so it doesn’t get in the glitter glue. “Vernon and I go to school together. But it’s a school for grown-ups. The students at the special school for grown-ups live at the school, and so we have our very own sukkah, just like here at your school.”

Her eyes are so wide. Her gaze doesn’t leave Minghao’s face. “Do you get to decorate your sukkah too?” she asks in her tiny voice.

“Minghao is _really good_ at decorating,” Vernon says. “Our sukkah is very beautiful.” 

“Oh,” she says, and starts gluing again, like _okay, thanks, that’s the end of that; I’m done now_. Vernon glances at Minghao. Minghao, who appears to be blushing slightly. It makes Vernon feel warm inside. Pleased.

••

Forty minutes in, and it’s a disaster. 

Someone has stepped on a crayon with their outdoor shoes, and someone else has peed their pants. One kid had to be picked up early, and someone else started crying out of nowhere, and one has been in the bathroom so long Morah Jiyoon is standing outside the door trying to make sure they haven’t fallen into the toilet, or something. And Vernon is quite sure there’s glitter glue in places he is going to be discovering for days afterward. He makes a mental note to take a really thorough pre-yom tov shower, and to wash his hair. Maybe wash it twice. 

But he’s having the time of his life. He and Minghao are stringing up the kids’ decorations, and Seungkwan has been pestered into reading another Sukkot story while he helps a little girl tie her shoes. Vernon can’t remember when he got shoes with laces, but it can’t have been this early, can it?

“He’s good with kids,” Minghao says in his reedy voice. His head is five inches, give or take, from Vernon’s. They’re standing on chairs so that they can loop the decoration strings over the supportive roof beams of the sukkah. The sukkah is tall, and the school has used real pine branches on half of it instead of the bamboo mats, the kind Vernon is used to seeing, that are spread on the other half, and it makes Minghao look so _natural_ against the backdrop of pine needles and thin wooden beams that Vernon wants to paint him, or something like that. Kiss him, yeah, except doing that would get him banned from coming back to the school probably, and, potentially a worse fate, make one or both of them fall off their chairs. They could topple the whole sukkah down. Then where would they be?

But the fading sunlight peeks through the schach in little dapples all over Minghao’s face, bounces off the shiny foil of the older kids’ decorations back onto Vernon’s, and Vernon can _see_ something just beyond what he knows. Like an extra day at the end of a week-long holiday, there just because after seven days of spiritual festivities. One more day close to G-d couldn’t hurt. He can see their future, spun out like finger-knitting along the line of the roof. Building a sukkah together, decorating it, eating in it. Having fun in it. Being together, just _being together_ , under a canopy of bamboo slats and sky. 

But the sun winks out on Minghao’s face, and Vernon remembers there’s more shade than sun in the sukkah, and that love can be too intense sometimes to look directly at, and so he turns back to the little girl’s paper pieces that he’s hanging up. The shape of the paper kind of reminds him of an apple. There’s green glitter glue on it, though, so maybe not.

“Vernon,” Minghao says very quietly as he hangs up his decoration. Vernon doesn’t remember which kid made it, but it’s a little poster that says “bruchim haba’im lasukkah shelanu.” _Welcome to our sukkah_ . All the little bubble letters are colored in red, both the _yuds_ and in the little stand-alone part of the _heis_. It makes Vernon smile.

“Yeah?” he says. He finishes hanging the little girl’s. _Rachel_ , it says on the back. 

“We should stop at the organic market on the way back to get kiwi,” Minghao says. 

And Vernon wants it to mean _I want to spend more time with you_ , and so he says, “yeah,” and then he says, “okay,” and then he says, “want to make an evening out of it and get dinner?”

Minghao finishes tying his string around the beam in a pretty but secure bow before he turns back to Vernon. There’s a little smile playing around his lips. A pleased smile, Vernon wants to think. He wants to know.

“Sounds good,” Minghao says softly, and then he reaches up and smooths out the bow Vernon tied on Rachel’s decoration, over the pink yarn, right over Vernon’s fingers. “It’s a date.”

••

“Our sukkah is going to look beautiful,” Minghao says. Vernon laughs. There’s nothing in their school sukkah in the courtyard yet, just the frame that’s still a little shoddy. 

Minghao puts his hands on his hips. Vernon, as ever, is looking up at him. He’s stretched out on the grass. The moon is almost full, and just now, the clouds break over it like the very sky can’t help but shine some sort of spotlight on Xu Minghao. “It will,” Minghao insists. “You know how I know?”

“How?” Vernon says, bold, and tilts up his chin, kicks his legs a little so that Minghao comes over. Minghao flops right down next to him. He fixes his own hair, then he fixes Vernon’s. Vernon lets him, watching Minghao’s face as his vision is caged in by Minghao’s arm. 

“Because it’s ours,” Minghao says. “It will be beautiful because we are in it. And we are beautiful together.” His breath smells like the kiwis. They weren’t going to stay good enough, so they had to eat them before yom tov. Vernon had liked the taste, had liked it even better—

“Yeah?” Vernon breathes, and reaches out his own hand to tug Minghao’s bangs over his forehead. 

“Yeah,” Minghao says, and then he giggles. Vernon can’t help but giggle back. 

“You’re right, though,” he says seriously, in his serious voice.

Minghao takes his arm, pushes it down on the grass, and lays his head on Vernon’s bicep. His hair tickles Vernon’s neck. The moonlight washes them clean. “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> GLOSSARY OF TERMS:
> 
> Lulav (LOO-lahv): A closed frond of a date palm tree. One of the four species used in a special ceremony on the Jewish holiday of Sukkot.
> 
> Tzitzis (TZIH-tziss): Also known as tzitzit (tzee-TZEET). These are the strings attached to a four-cornered garment. The number of strings and knots is supposed to be reminiscent of the number of commandments. In the yeshivish/Orthodox world, they are worn by men. They are often attached to a special four-cornered garment called a tallis kattan (TALL-iss KAH-tahn), or small prayer shawl, which is worn underneath every-day clothing. Yeshivish men tend to wear their tzitzit out (rather than tucked in) so that they can see them.
> 
> Chessed (CHEH-sed): charity
> 
> Etrog (ET-roag): a citron. One of the four species, along with the lulav.
> 
> Sukkah (SOOK-uh): First syllable rhymes with "soot." This is the temporary hut that Jews build for the seven-day holiday of Sukkot/Sukkos. It is traditional to eat and otherwise spend time in the sukkah, and some even sleep inside it. It is also traditional to make the sukkah as beautiful as possible.
> 
> Morah (MORE-uh): a teacher (f.), also used as a form of address for a teacher (f.).
> 
> Machzor (MAHCH-zor): (first syllable rhymes with loch; second syllable rhymes with bore) a prayer-book used for holidays.
> 
> Rugelach (ROOH-guh-lach): (last syllable rhymes with loch) Traditional Ashkenazic sweet pastries.
> 
> Yeshiva (Yeh-SHEEV-uh): A Jewish school. In the yeshivish world, a post-high school institute of Jewish learning for men.
> 
> Simchat Torah (SIM-chat TORE-uh): (the second syllable rhymes with "hot) The holiday immediately following the seven-day holiday of Sukkot. Outside of Israel, it lasts for two days. It's a celebration of the Torah (the Five Books of Moses), and it is traditional to dance with a Torah scroll on that holiday.
> 
> Leining (LAY-ning): A yiddish word. In the yeshivish world, it means to chant from the Torah out loud.
> 
> Hanukkah (HAH-nook-uh): A Jewish winter holiday with a complicated history.
> 
> Rosh Hashana (ROASH ha-SHAH-nah): The Jewish new year. It is traditional to have an in-season fruit one has not eaten before the season began on the second day of this two-day holiday.
> 
> Schach (with an ah sound in the middle): the roof of the sukkah, which is made from all-natural materials, usually branches and leaves or bamboo mats.
> 
> Ziz: A Jewish mythological bird that is said to be so large its wings block out the sun. Also the subject of a few very excellent children's books.
> 
> Yom tov (YOME TOVE): A holiday. In the yeshivish world, it is forbidden to work on such a holiday.
> 
> Yud - a letter of the Hebrew alphabet. (י)
> 
> Hei - another letter of the hebrew alphabet. (ה)
> 
> MORE NOTES:
> 
> In the Orthodox/Yeshivish world, eggs are routinely checked in a glass dish for blood spots. (These are very uncommon, especially now.)


End file.
